


Tell Your Secrets

by AVirtoMusae



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Assassins, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Canon androsexual male character, Dysfunctional Family, Falling In Love, House Baratheon is dysfunctional, House Tyrell, House Tyrell isn't so very straight-laced, M/M, Modern AU, Parties, Spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:24:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVirtoMusae/pseuds/AVirtoMusae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loras glances across the hall at Renly. The target, he reminds himself. If he gives the target a name, it is generally a lot easier to become attached -- and with this one, he thinks it would be too easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Your Secrets

_ _

_i._

_Renly Baratheon._

It’s a name that Loras already knows quite well. Ever since his grandmother has given him this assignment, Loras has made it his business to know it. Renly Baratheon is the name of the man that he is to spy on.

For about ten generations, the Tyrell family has been rich as hell. For about five generations, it has had a second profession: spying and assassination. Loras Tyrell is the best Tyrell spy and assassin this generation, and he is proud of it. He lives for the thrill of it all.

Loras glances across the hall at Renly. _The target_ , he reminds himself. If he gives the target a name, it is generally a lot easier to become attached -- and with this one, he thinks it would be too easy. The target is just a little taller than he himself is. He has black hair that looks like silk, and turquoise eyes too stunning to be anything but a real-life photo-manip.

The target stands and chats with the Lord Baelish and wearing a rather sour expression. Loras smirks. He can’t claim to be a particular fan of Littlefinger either.

Loras knows he is staring, but he can’t say he really cares. He _needs_ to be the first to know when Ren -- the target -- is available to engage in conversation. Eventually, Baelish continues on his way, and the target’s eyes meet Loras’s golden ones. Loras nearly drowns in them.

Loras knows he ought to look away -- staring does attract attention, makes him suspicious. But for all his skill, he just can’t bring himself to do it. Now, he knows, is his chance. He flashes the target a smile and waves him over.

The target doesn’t hesitate to take the invitation. “Renly,” the target tells him in a tone that Loras knows is supposed to sound suave, “Renly Baratheon.” The target looks him up and down before nodding, and before Loras can help himself, his chest is puffing up with pride. “And you’d be Loras Tyrell, right?”

Loras’s head snaps up so quickly that it hurts, and his eyes widen. He realizes that his mouth is hanging open, and then he promptly flushes in embarrassment. “Yeah,” he says, changing his gape into a beam. “Yes, I am.”

Renly -- no, the target -- smiles back at him, and Loras has to remind himself that he should not be getting attached. The target flags down a footman and asks for more champagne before turning back to Loras. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” he tells Loras. For a fleeting second, Loras almost thinks that the target knows what he is. “My brother is deeply indebted to your family.”

Loras laughs and tries not to sigh in relief. This must be the eldest brother, Robert, King of Westeros, that the target speaks of, for the middle brother holds the Tyrell family in debt for what they had done. “Yes, indeed. Though I hear his coffers are more full of Lannister gold.”

Loras is surprised that he finds himself laughing in reply to something the target has said until the champagne arrives. He tries to drink it with grace, not to embarrass himself, but somehow, it seems his target is the smoother drinker.

They continue chattering, but comments are a little slower. If Loras’s feels stutters occasionally when the target turns to him, he tells himself he is imagining it. The music gets louder, the bands having switched and the night getting more and more full of alcohol and sex as the old folk trickle out. They’ve given up conversation, and the target reaches over to grab his hand to drag him out to the dance floor.

Loras is surprised again when he lets him. He lies to himself when he tells himself he isn’t enjoying this. He tells himself it’s just the champagne and the music that’s making him feel so happy. The first dance is a slow one, and the music eliminates all proper thoughts from his head.

It speeds up, and Loras keeps moving closer and closer to the target, and even Loras, skilled in lies as he is, can’t deny the feeling of excitement in himself. By the time midnight rolls around, rivulets of sweat make his shirt stick to him, and pressed as he is against the target, he knows that the target is much the same.

“Gods,” the target leans down to whisper in his ears, his lips lingering, “if this weren’t the Lannister’s house, I’d so fuck you right now.” The target leans back slightly, pushing his pelvis more firmly against Loras’s, and Loras can see that the target’s eyes are dark.

Loras smirks. A chuckle rises in his throat. He tries to pretend to himself that fucking the target doesn’t sound so enticing, but even he can’t fully manage that. He, then leaning forward so that the length of his body presses against his target’s, whispers back, “Looking forward to our next meeting th.en”

The music is beginning to fade, and finally, they stop dancing a few hours later. Loras wants the target, even if he won’t admit it, and so when he leaves, he rasps, “See you around.” He forgets that they don’t even know each other’s number.

_ii._

A couple weeks pass before Loras sees the target again. This makes him nervous (he pretends that he doesn’t feel lonely or want to look up and see his target’s face). He is supposed to be spying, and not seeing is definitely not spying. When he does finally see the target again, it’s at another party. This one’s louder from the start, more vivacious, more sensual. Loras suspects that that’s because Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy are hosting.

Loras slouches about the bar, letting his natural charisma bring people over to talk to him. Somehow, he thinks he should be more surprised when his target walks up to him and begins talking. Loras somehow wishes that the music were softer if only he could hear the target.

Loras takes another sip of his vodka and nearly spits it back out. He has never liked vodka, but that is all this party has. He hears the target laugh at the sound, and that is a sound Loras knows he loves the instant he hears it. His eyes widen in alarm at the thought, and to distract himself, he drags the target out to the dance floor.

The dancing presses them close together, and Loras is sure that there is not an inch of them not touching. It atmosphere is electric. The music is loud enough to hurt the ears. It’s some pop love song that Loras doesn’t know the name of, and the people on the dance wildly, hands and feet in every direction.

Loras isn’t sure how it happens or even precisely when it happens. He just knows it is happening. His lips are pressed against his target’s, and a moment later, he thrusts his tongue against Renly’s lips. Renly -- Loras is too far past the edges of reason to realize he is acknowledging the target’s name. Renly parts his lips beneath Loras’s and kisses him back with equal fervor.

“My place or yours?” Renly growls, and the sound is rather muffled by Loras’s lips. Loras barely hears it, but it sends his heartbeat flying. Loras moans against his mouth and grinds his hips against Renly’s. He thinks Renly tastes of vodka and cinnamon, and it’s fantastic. He shuts his eyes and presses himself closer to Renly as if they could fuck through their clothes in the middle of the party.

“Yours,” Loras hisses before reclaiming his lips. Even aroused and tipsy, Loras knows it has to be Renly’s place. He begins pulling Renly towards the door, and the other man obliges eagerly. They can barely make it out of the party and onto the street between their hurried kisses and stumbling to the door.

By the time they make it to Renly’s, they’ve already loosened their neckties and started on their buttons. Once they’ve entered, Loras shoves Renly against the door and attacks his neck with his lips. Renly moans and throws back his head while his fingers entangle themselves in Loras’s curly locks.

Their kisses become more passionate, more driven, and their touches more frenzied as they drive each other closer and closer to the edge. Loras pulls back only when Renly prepares him, and then he is watching as best he can, his golden eyes nearly pitch black.

They both moan as Renly enters him. They’re both panting, and Loras pulls Renly back into another kiss as Renly begins to thrust into him, slowly at first but thengetting faster and rougher. Finally, amidst grunts and moans, they bring each other to completion. Sated, Renly pulls out of Loras and, too relaxed to move, Loras lies with his limbs entangled with Renly’s for the night.

When he wakes up, his eyes still closed, the first thing that hits him is that he is tangled in someone else’s limbs and that it feels so right. Then his eyes widen as last night begins to return to him. He remembers that he danced with Renly and then they returned to Renly’s and fucked.

It is then that his eyes widen, and he nearly leaps from the bed. He is lucky, he decides, that Renly is such a heavy sleeper. If his eyes were wide before, then they’re huge now as he realizes that somewhere along the way he’s stopped calling Renly “the target.”

He has to leave, he thinks. If he doesn’t, he thinks he might want to stay, might want to forget that he is supposed to be spying on the man before him. He takes a shuddering breath to calm himself as he picks his way through the scattered clothes to find his own. Without any ceremony, he pulls on his clothes and flees to the flat he shares with Margaery and her fiance.

_iii._

Margaery is not impressed when he comes home in the same (now rather rumpled) clothes as last night. Quirking one elegant brow, she asks, “Did you have fun?”

Loras just blushes and tries to shake his head. It’s a lie. He had too much fun, he thinks. He should not have enjoyed it so much, not when the man he was with is his target and cannot be thought of as Renly Baratheon.

_iv._

Loras meets the target again, a few days later, quite by chance. He stops by a cafe to get a coffee before going to work -- his real job, not the spying. After slowly working his way up through the queue, Loras leans against the counter to order his drink. When he turns to go fetch his drink, he sees the target sitting off at a computer in one of the back corner.

He waits to get his drink, and when he finishes, he invites himself to go sit down with the target. “Hey,” he says, causing the target to jump.

“Hey,” the target replies, sounding a little nervous. “You left after . . . .” A rosy color settles on his cheekbones, and Loras decides he quite likes it there.

“Yeah,” Loras says and cringes at how awkward he sounds. He’s a spy, used to worming his way into the hearts of others. The awkwardness is something new. “Sorry about that.”

To his horror, his heart flutters when the target chuckles. “You know, if you didn’t want me to see you when I woke up, you could have just asked to blindfold me.”

Loras nearly chokes on his coffee even as he feels his member twitch in his jeans. He flushes, and he looks down at his coffee. When he looks back up, the target is smirking at him. “So does that mean there’ll be a repeat?”

The target grins in response, and that does nothing to eliminate Loras’s already growing erection. “Gods, yes.”

Loras nearly laughs at his target’s response before he realizes that he oughtn’t, that he shouldn’t be seeing his target as a person. But, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realizes that he doesn’t want to stop. “Good,” he says before he can change his mind, “but only if you give me your number.”

The target smiles, so Loras hands over his phone for the number to be entered. When his phone is returned to him, he texts, “Hi.”

The target’s phone buzzes in his bag, and the target just looks at Loras and shakes his head. “Right, well, I’ve got to go. See you later?”

Loras thinks he should not be so enthused when he nods his head.

_v._

The rest of the week passes before they see each other again, but they text constantly. Most of the time, it’s just about their days or to complain about family and friends. Loras finds himself a bit unnerved by how whenever he hears the little ‘bing’ that means he has a new message, he smiles. He is a bit unnerved by how he just keeps checking and checking his messages too.

He has a normal job, though, and his coworkers are beginning to notice something is off. He can’t find words to describe how irritating that is. He’s supposed to be stealthy and sly. And that is why he is checking his messages in the middle of a meeting to cement a very important contract between his own family’s company and Fossoway, Inc. and checking his messages.

A cough causes him to look up at his boss (and older brother), and the stare the older Tyrell gives him makes him flush. He quickly slides his phone back into his pocket but not before he has replied to the most recent text.

_Boyfriends?_

Even as he sits rather impatiently through the rest of the meeting while trying to ignore his boner, he cannot help but think of it. It’s not necessarily the request that surprises him so, not really, at least. He’s been able to tell that that was where things were going for the entire week.

What surprises him is how quickly he had agrees, how his heart thuds in his chest. He feels like a blushing maiden, really, and the Seven know that that’s really not the case. He doesn’t understand why the message makes him feel so happy (more accurately, he does and does not want to admit it to himself).

He makes it through the meeting with no small amount of luck. When it finishes, he does not waste time in excusing himself from work for the rest of the day. Margaery gives him a strange look as he gets in the elevator and presses the down button. Any looks anyone gives him don’t matter to him. He walks out onto the street to see his target already out there waiting for him. His heart stutters at that.

He kisses the target firmly on the lips as soon as he sees him.

Boyfriends, he thinks. He doesn’t think: _Spy and target._

_vi._

The next two months confuse Loras greatly, for inbetween the dates and the calls and the texts and the sex, he realizes that his boyfriend is Renly. Not target. Not the man he’s spying on. He still tells Margaery and the rest the important bits, but that’s not why he’s spending so much time with Renly. He’s spending time with him because he honestly likes spending time with him.

When he realizes it, he panics. He doesn’t text Renly back for an entire morning, and he resolves to talk it over with Margaery and her fiance over coffee. Coffee, he thinks, running a hand through his golden-brown curls, cannot come soon enough.

Margaery and Sansa arrive exactly a quarter of an hour early to coffee, and by the time Loras returns to their flat, the pair are already deep in conversation.

“Hi,” he says as he opens the door. The pair look up, and he is a tad unnerved when he sees the smirk on his sister’s face.

“Come on and sit down with us, brother,” Margaery instructs him, and almost meekly he obeys after pouring himself a cup of black coffee. Sansa waves at him from where she sits next to her fiance. “So, what did you want to see me about? Having boyfriend troubles? Troubles with your mission?”

Loras tries not to blush and only fails miserably. His blush only deepens when he realizes Margaery is laughing at him. He glowers in protest, not willing to dignify her behavior with words.

Margaery turns to Sansa, and in a mocking voice says, “My brother has gone and gotten himself in love with his target. Isn’t this just precious?” She claps her hands together and smirks.

“And now he wants our help,” Sansa says as a way of agreement. Loras’s face can’t decide between the glare and the blush. “Go on then, admit it.”

Staring down at his coffee, Loras mumbles a confirmation. To his relief, his sister finally decides to take pity on him. “And so now you want help because you’re really having feelings for him. It was only a matter of time before this happened.”

Sullenly Loras nods. “But what do I do? I can’t just stop, but how can I not?” He feels his sister’s warm palm on his shoulder.

“Loras, keep doing your job, but for the Seven’s sake and your own, don’t let Gran know you have feelings for him. But if you love him, go for it.” Margaery smiles softly at her brother, and Sansa, in turn, grins at her fiance.

“I don’t know if love is the right word,” he says, but the words taste rather ashy and feel hollow even as he says it. He runs a hand through his hair and curses. Love, he realizes, even though he won’t say it aloud for fear of making it even more real, is the right word.

He gets up and leaves but not before seeing Margaery winking at him.

_vii._

Loras and Renly head to a campsite for the weekend. The site is in the middle of the woods, and their only company is nature. The stars and moon light the night, bathing the trees and tent in a silver light.

The fire crackles loudly, and besides their breathing and whispered conversation, it’s the only sound. Loras leans his head against Renly’s chest, and he is struck by how utterly right it feels. It’s like he belongs there, like they were made for each other. They grow silent, and Loras wonders if Renly can feel it too.

Loras swallows, inwardly debating if he should say the words that have been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. Finally, just as he is about to decide to keep them to himself, they slip out. “I love you,” he whispers.

His eyes grow wide just as Renly tenses. For a moment, he thinks it is the complete wrong thing to say, and that frightens him more than he thinks it ought to. But then Renly pulls him into a kiss, and _everything_ , he thinks, _is okay_ , especially when a few kisses later while they lean their foreheads together while panting from lack of air, Renly whispers those three words back to him.

He grins wide enough that he might be the sun, and when they fuck into the wee hours of the morning, the sex feels better than it ever has before. The bliss, Loras discovers rather unhappily, stays only until the morning when he receives an alarming call on his mobile.

He knows that it’s bad the second he sees the caller ID: his grandmother. The words make it even worse. After, there is a gnawing sensation in his stomach that makes him want to curl up in a ball and cry (something he has never even considered a viable option before now). He wants to punch something because his world is falling apart.

The words repeat themselves in his mind, an ugly tattoo in his brain.

Our client wants you to assassinate Renly Baratheon.

Between the grief and the anger, Loras feels helpless. He doesn’t know the name of the client. He can’t protect Renly always. But even worse, he knows that any of his siblings or cousins could come after the man he loves.

He slips back into the small tent they are sharing and can’t help but notice how innocent Renly seems while sleeping. Loras sighs and curls up next to Renly and tucks his head beneath his lover’s chin.

When Renly wakes up, he asks what’s wrong, but Loras refuses to tell. He doesn’t know how he can explain to Renly that he has been spying on him since the first time they met. Renly would hate him, he thinks with absolute certainty.

They cut short their holiday because Loras’s mood is unsalvageable. He doesn’t notice how much his sudden broodiness alarms Renly. When they get back, Loras calls Margaery. Margaery promises to help him after a moment, but she tells him that if they ask her to do it, she will. He thinks that may be worse than the order itself.

_viii._

Loras spends the next week sticking to Renly like a burr, and by the fourth day, Renly is annoyed by it. Loras doesn’t care, though, and sticks at it anyway. He’s never lacked courage before, and yet he is afraid to defy his family and to tell Renly.

After the week, he finally gets the courage to manage it when Renly nearly gets hit by a car when walking across the road. After very thoroughly checking that he wasn’t injured, Loras gives Renly one last kiss (he’s rather sure that it will be the last because Renly will certainly despise him when all is said and done).

Finally, after being silent for a few minutes, Loras manages to speak, and he is sure that it is the worst moment of his life. “My family has trained us to be assassins and spies from a very young age, and I was told to spy on you.” He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his rumpled curls. “But then I fell in love with you.” He sighs again. “And now, my grandmother’s told me that I’m supposed to kill you.”

He barely has time to register the look in Renly’s eyes before the other man’s lips are kissing him, and Loras kisses back with a desperation he hadn’t thought possible. When their lips part, Loras looks at Renly in confusion. “What? But I just said --” he whispers before Renly cuts him off.

“Loras, I’ve known. This entire time I’ve known. But really, you’ve just been told to kill me?” He whistles. “I guess that explains a lot.” Loras hugs him tightly, and though he would never admit it, his tears wet Renly’s suit jacket.

When Loras looks up at Renly, his boyfriend is smiling, and he gives a watery smile to match it. “Do you know who might want it?” He himself has tried to figure it out, but even though he’s been spying on Renly for months, he doesn’t know who would want it -- too many people with too many motives.

Renly doesn’t hesitate with his answer. “Stannis.” It makes sense, Loras realizes, in its own twisted way. The middle brother had caught his family in the middle of an operation back when Renly had been young, and ever since then, he has made it out as if the Tyrells owe him. Of course they would do as he asked. And it is not exactly a secret that Stannis doesn’t like Renly, especially since the brothers have been in direct competition with one another for years.

Loras grinds himself against Renly, elliciting a moan from each of them. Then, his breath hot against Renly’s ear, he whispers, “I’m going to kill him for you.”

_ix._

Loras, Margaery, and Sansa all look in the window of Stannis’s bedroom, where, after a week of work, they have determined he’ll be. They try not to look too disgusted at the sight that was within -- it seemed Stannis, his wife, and some other women were all fucking like rabbits. It looks nastier than anything he has ever seen before, and that is truly saying something.

“Now,” Loras whispers, and the trio springs into action. The breaking-and-entering part is easier than one could expect, but then the three of them are very skilled at this, even if Sansa only joined when she started dating Margaery.

The only crimp in their plan arises later after Margaery and Sansa have already killed Melisandre and Selyse and Loras has just shot Stannis. “That,” he growls, “is for my Renly.”

It is only then that he hears the startled gasp from behind him. He turns around to see a little girl standing there (Shireen, he remembers). Stannis’s daughter and Renly’s niece.

Loras doesn’t know what he can say to make anything better. He is, after all, the murderer of her father. So all he does is beckon to Sansa and Margaery and leave with a bit of money stolen from Stannis’s safe.

The tragic murder of Stannis and Selyse Baratheon and their good friend Melisandre Redd is all over the news of the next few days, and Loras receives a couple of calls from his family thanking him for what he’s done, and though Renly, to his surprise, is a little sad, Renly is also infinitely grateful. What is sad, Loras does think, is that little Shireen had to see all of it. If he checks up on her regularly and introduces her to sweet little Rickon Stark, then it certainly has _nothing_ to do with guilt because he’s not supposed to feel guilt any more than he is love for Renly (and Seven knows that he feels enough of that).

_x._

A year later, Loras and Renly lie in bed, exhausted and sated from thir multiple rounds of fucking. Loras looks down at Renly’s left hand and draws the ring finger into his mouth, flicking the ring there with his tongue. “My Renly Baratheon,” he whispers.

He only frowns when Renly shakes his head. “No, your Renly Tyrell. I’m done with my family.”

A grin lights up his face, and neither Loras nor Renly can remember ever feeling any happier.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in this particular style, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback or help anyone wishes to give me. I was struggling a bit with the second part (particularly the smuttier part), so if someone would like to help with that, I would be jumping for joy. Anyway, thank you so much for reading, and I hope to contribute more to the fandom soon. =)
>
>>   
> A Virto Musae  
> By the Virtue of the Muse


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